Fighting Destiny
by NorthAmericanJaguar
Summary: When Zuko is born without "the spark" in his eyes, Ozai refuses to accept him as an heir. He lives at the palace as a servant, surrounded by political intrigue but oblivious to his heritage... So what happens when the truth comes out? Constructive criticism greatly appreciated, no pairings decided on yet. BlueSpirit!Zuko Nonbender!Zuko.


Ozai knew something was wrong; even before the midwife, a thin, wispy woman with a soft voice and uncertain manner unsuited to the bloody and often gritty reality her line of work offered, came into the hall, even more bleak and dithering than usual.

He rose from his chair, legs cramped from sitting in the same position too long, knuckles white from gripping the chair's gilded armrests. His fingers cracked slightly as he flexed them experimentally- who knew that he, Prince Ozai- second in line to the throne and a firebending master- would possibly be so nervous?

"My Prince," said the woman- try as he might, Ozai could not remember her name. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. As Prince, he had better things to do than remember the name of some common serving wretch, who was once again proving her uselessness by wringing her hands and choking out incoherent sentences.

He cut her off.

"How is Ursa?"

Whatever nonsense the midwife had been trying to say died in her throat, as she stared at him wide-eyed. Ozai felt a flash of alarm, remembering the sounds of his wife's screams. He was no expert on motherhood, but even he knew that it had been a hard birth.

After all, what else would have Ursa- brave Ursa, proud Ursa, who didn't even break down on the day of their wedding, the day she truly lost everything she held dear- would have her crying out in sheer agony for _hours? _

"She's fine," the midwife assured him hurriedly, head bobbing up and down as she did so. "It wasn't an easy birth- first ones seldom are- she is exhausted from significant blood loss, and should be confined to bed for a few days at least. But she is expected to make a full recovery."

"And the child?"

"A healthy baby boy, Prince."

_A son. _Ozai let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding until then. He had a son. A strong, healthy son, whom he would train to be a powerful bender like himself. Perhaps even more powerful, being a scion of both Fire Lord Sozin _and _Avatar Roku.

Yes, Ozai thought, as he smiled to himself. This boy would do great things, he was sure of it.

He nodded to the midwife. "I'm going in to see my wife and _son." _The word left a pleasant taste on his tongue. Without waiting for the midwife's response, he swung open the heavy doors to where Ursa and their newborn lay.

"Prince Ozai, before you become too involved, you should know that-"

"Ursa," said Ozai, once again interrupting the infernal woman. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room- the only source of light came from a candelabra positioned on top of a bureau several feet from where his wife lay in bed. The scent of blood and sweat and something else distinctly unpleasant filled the air, but Ozai did his best to ignore it and took small, shallow breaths the best he could.

"You have given me a son," he said once he was by her side, tenderly running a hand over her sweat-slicked brow. She blinked and murmured something in response, her voice cracked and raw. He smoothed back her hair, then bent over and kissed her forehead.

Ursa swallowed, and spoke again, this time directing what she had to say at the midwife. "I… I want to see our baby."

The midwife nodded. "Of course." She gestured to one of the nearby serving girls, who came forward immediately, a small bundle cradled in her arms. For the first time since she'd gone into labor, Ozai saw Ursa smile as she stretched out her arms to hold their son.

Ozai was curious as well. With a careful, gentle hand, he reached out and stoked the top of their child's head. He had a tuft of dark hair- it was either black or a very dark brown, it was too early to tell- that stuck out in a slightly unruly manner, fine and silky soft to the touch.

"He's perfect," said Ursa, and Ozai found himself agreeing.

Their son was quiet at the moment, his cries little more than whimpers and tiny fists jerking sporadically in the way that most babies seemed to do. But their son was _not _an ordinary baby. Ozai focused on the infant's face, willing for his son's eyes to open, to gaze at his father for the first time, for Ozai himself to see the fire within, and know that he was the perfect offspring he'd been expecting.

"Can I hold him?" He asked suddenly, the question surprising even himself.

Ursa nodded, and he gingerly picked up the newborn. "Watch his head," she admonished, and Ozai quickly adjusted his hand position.

Smiling, he turned to the midwife. "Tell me, how strong will our son be? Was he born under a lucky star, did you see any omens?"

The midwife drew a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter, you must love all your children."

Ozai's smile faded. "Answer me," he demanded, voice a low growl.

"You're very angry. You've placed such great expectations on your firstborn son, but you and your wife are still young. You can have other children. But you must make yourself care. You must force yourself to want this baby."

"Don't give me orders, woman!" The spark of panic in his chest caught fire. "Just answer my question. _What did you see?_"

"Nothing," the midwife said, and to Ozai, that was the worst answer of all. "Nothing at all." She swallowed, looking up at him fearfully. "Your son… your son isn't a… a bender."

"What?"

The baby's eyes opened, and for the first time, Ozai could clearly see them. Already they were a warm shade of gold- much like his own- they lacked one crucial detail: a spark. All firebenders, even young ones, possessed a spark in their eyes. It was more than just an aesthetic vanity, it was a promise of the fire within.

And his son didn't have it.

Throat tight, Ozai thrust the child back into the midwife's arms.

Impossible. How was the boy _not _a firebender? Ozai took a deep breath, a strange sense of grief and loss crashing down on him. His son… the failure. It had been six generations since the royal family had produced anything less than prodigious firebenders. The last non-bender had been the offspring of Prince Hai- the third son of Fire Lord Zheng, Azulon's grandfather. And even then, the child hadn't been born a firebender because Prince Hai, for reasons unknown to the rest of the royal family, had eloped with a young woman from the Earth Kingdom.

He was disowned shortly after that.

Ozai cursed his many times great-uncle. Now it seemed that he would share in his terrible luck. But unlike Hai, Ozai had done everything _right. He _hadn't eloped with a foreign commoner or done anything to bring down dishonor on himself or the family. He'd married a proper woman- as weak as her fire was, Ursa was _still _a firebender.

He glanced once again at the little bundle in the midwife's arms. He'd prayed to Agni every day for a worthy heir. Not for that… that _thing. _That disgrace.

Even Iroh, his kooky tea-loving brother, had managed to produce a worthy heir. At seven years old, Lu Ten already showed the makings of a firebending master and a warrior's spirit. _Iroh _had the perfect son, not him.

But then, Iroh had the best of everything. He was next in line for the crown, the crown that Ozai coveted. _He _was regarded as the better firebender, the infamous Dragon of The West. _He _had all the attention, of both the people and their father. Ozai curled his lip in disgust. Oh yes, Father had always liked Iroh better.

And producing a powerful child had been his goal, to prove once and for all to himself and his father that he was better. That his lineage was better suited to rule the Fire Nation. The only thing Iroh was really good for was the front lines of battle and toting around his stupid tea set.

And now this child had ruined everything.

By being a failure, he would make Ozai look like a failure as well, and that was one thing he could not afford to happen.

"Ozai?" Ursa rasped, weakly hauling herself up into a sitting position. She sensed her husband's growing anger, and feared for her newborn child. "He's our son," she said, trying to calm the storm before it broke. "You heard what she said, we can have other children; strong benders, like their father. But our baby is like you too- he has half your blood."

"_He is not my son." _Ozai spat, each word ground out through gritted teeth. Tears sprang into Ursa's eyes and her chin quivered, but he ignored it. Everything seemed hazy, distorted. The room rocked, and he rocked with it. "He is nothing I tell you- NOTHING!"

His shouts awoke the baby, who then began to cry. The midwife hastily cradled him back and forth, making soothing _shooshing _noises, but the boy continued to bawl until he was red in the face. Almost as if he knew what his father was saying, Ozai reflected.

Although it was illogical, he felt a rush of spiteful pleasure. _Good. _Let the little brat suffer, he was weak, he was _nothing- _

"You monster!" Ursa sobbed, and it was then Ozai realized he'd spoken out loud. He made a move towards her, but she jerked away as if she'd been burned. He went to grasp her hands but she struggled and writhed, beating her fists against his chest. "Don't touch me! I don't know you anymore!"

Ozai released her wrists and turned to the midwife, who was still trying to calm a screaming baby. "You now need to go to the backstreets- away from the Palace- and find a peasant couple. Give them the baby and don't tell them whose it was. When the family asks, tell them I had a stillborn son, which was very bloody and had to be taken away immediately."

Ursa's sobs became a keening wail. "No… Please, Ozai, I beg you! No… No!"

The midwife shifted awkwardly. 'You may never find him again," she said.

"Yes, I know. Tell the peasants that he is unwanted and unloved."

"Yes, Prince."

He turned his back on the scene unfolding before him, trying to ignore the smell of blood and pain, the cries of the newborn and the cries of the mother. Especially the cries of the mother. Ozai clenched his hands, and wished for his heart to harden as well.

But just when he thought he had nearly done so, one plea pierced through his mental armor, managing to rise above the rest:

"Please, Ozai- my husband, my lord! If you ever loved me, then spare my son. That's all I ask… Spare him. _Please._"

He sighed, once again turning back to the midwife, who had not yet stepped out the door. "Stop." Instantly, she came to a stop. "Don't take the child into the streets. Instead, he can stay here, in the Palace, and work as a servant."

Ursa wiped her eyes although it did little good; the tears continued to fall. A servant. Her little boy, her innocent, precious child, condemned to the life of a lowly _servant. _Perhaps it would be better to let a peasant couple raise him; at least then he would be free to roam and explore, and do all of the things little boys loved to do. He could grow up in a proper home, and be free to choose his own path-

But he would grow up calling another woman _mother. _Something sharp and raw twisted in her gut. She loved her son, with a fierce, tender love that burned inside her like an inner fire, but a thousand times stronger. A love so fierce that it nearly tore her in two to make such a choice.

If he left, then he would take a piece of her heart with him. It was in that moment Ursa _knew_ what her choice would be, even as guilt clawed at her selfish relief. She keep her son with her, and she vowed to love and cherish him, even if he would never understand why.

Her eyes darted to Ozai, who stood grimly in the center of the room. His stern gaze raked over both her and the midwife as he said; "The boy will be raised here, but I will have nothing to do with him. And if by some chance he finds out about his heritage-" Here his gaze fell on Ursa. "-then I will find out about it, and I will get rid of him. _Personally." _

The midwife bobbed her head up and down. "I wouldn't dream of it, Prince. But what should the boy be called?"

Ozai's eyes narrowed dismissively. "It doesn't matter to me. Name him Lee for all I care; it's a common name in the Fire Nation. Common enough for a boy like himself."

"Zuko."

"What?" His head snapped towards Ursa.

She met his challenging stare with one of her own, gold falling into gold. "Zuko," she repeated. "I want to name him Zuko."

"Vey well," said Ozai with a nod. His glare slid towards the child. "Then get _Zuko _out of my sight."

The midwife bowed and hurried outside, taking with her the precious bundle. And as Ursa cried, Ozai looked on with what a stranger might've called stony indifference until the infant's cries at last faded into the cavernous hallways. The Fire Prince shook his head, and convinced himself he was doing the right thing…

Unaware of what destiny had in store for his son.


End file.
